Valentine Star
by SaraBahama
Summary: Jack and Sam at the cabin Valentine's Day 2012, enjoying one of their favorite passtimes: astronomy! Mostly shameless fluff, with a little reflection on SGU  we're almost a year from last contact .


_**A/N:**__ I have to confess that this short story was born of an astronomy show on PBS. That's right…I'm a nerd. I found the show captivating and was surprised to find out that there IS a 'Valentine Star'; I was certain that since Jack and Sam have astronomy as a shared hobby, they would point the telescope toward the heavens, and enjoy it…together. Mostly shameless fluff, with a little reflection on SGU (we're almost a year from last contact). _

_Thanks, as always, to Hedwig for the Beta...your tolerance is appreciated! Mistakes for anything I added once she was done falls upon my own head. _

**Valentine Star**

Warm steam curled from the brim of the mug as she wrapped her hands around it and drew it in close to her chest where she could enjoy the radiant heat and the complex aroma. Humming with appreciation, she took a cautious sip and winced as the hot liquid singed her tongue; she hissed quietly and set it aside with an accusing look. Turning her attention to the task at hand, she keyed in a code on the laptop, and glanced out the window as though she could will the balky instrument to perform the task she had just requested. The night was dark and obscured her view, but a quick glance at the monitor showed no change in the tracking.

She made a frustrated sound and leaned in closer, the clack of the keys loud in the quiet room. With an emphatic tap on the enter key, she leaned back and stretched out the kinks in her back, running her hands through the long brown hair that had twisted and bunched up around her neck and shoulders. She found it irritating…the computer, that is, not the hair. _Well_…now that she thought about it, the hair was only adding to the irritation. She gathered it all up and deftly corralled it in a hair tie that she had been wearing on her wrist. She glanced out the window again, looking for visible movement in the darkness.

The lamplight filtered out through the windows, glittering weakly on the blanket of fresh snow covering the back deck. It had fallen in sheets overnight and most of the day, but the clouds had finally rolled on, leaving the Minnesota night clear, crisp, and frigidly cold. The pristine blanket was broken only by the large, ragged footprints leading from the back door and disappearing into the darkness –beyond the reach of the soft yellow glow from the windows.

One set of prints leading outward, none returning.

He had set up the telescope, telling her to stay inside where it was warm, since he was headed out to restock their firewood anyway. She looked over her shoulder at the fireplace: the fire was crackling low and warm, bathing the dimly lit room with a flickering lightshow.

It was good to be here: good to be with him. She could stand the self-imposed isolation as long as they were occupying the same space, breathing the same air. They didn't normally come up to the cabin in the dead of winter: the fishing sucked, but _he_ had suggested it…for Valentine's Day. Jack O'Neill could hardly be classified as a sentimental man, but the last few years had left them precious little time unclaimed by others, by the demands of their jobs. He had suggested in his quiet, unassuming way, that they take a few days off, maybe do a little stargazing. She had offered no argument –time was a precious gift that she was willing to receive…and to give.

Every time they thought that life might slow down, it decided to take a downhill run. After the struggle they had been through to eliminate the Goa'uld and the Ori, you would think that the cosmos would cut them a break, but it seemed that someone had a high opinion of what they could handle, throwing them the challenge of a renewed and vigorous Lucian Alliance and the whole Destiny situation.

_Destiny_.

The door creaked, bringing her thoughts back to the present; she watched him come in, kick the snow off his boots on the threshold, and stop at the hearth to deposit his armload of hardwood wedges. Shrugging out of his coat, he tossed it carelessly on the couch, the black knit cap following quickly. She smirked up at him, her eyes travelling to the hair that his cap had left plastered to his head. He followed her gaze and self-consciously ran a hand through the frosted fuzz, teasing the strands into adorable disarray. The smirk widened into a warm smile and a quiet chuckle. He pulled a chair over to her impromptu computer station by the window, edging close enough to wrap himself around her and peer at the computer over her shoulder. She shivered delicately as his cold nose brushed her neck.

"Anything yet?" he asked.

"No. I think it's still equalizing to the temperature."

He slipped his hands around her waist and drew her back against him. She could feel how cold his hands were through her thin cotton shirt, and his cheek was like ice where it lay against her shoulder. They sat comfortably, sharing body heat, for several minutes. She traced a finger across the hands he had clasped over her stomach and allowed herself to sink into the muffled moment: the fire crackled and popped merrily, the firelight dancing across the wooden walls, and the scent of smoldering hardwood mingling with the warm scent of him.

Her previous thoughts forced their way to the fore, tainting the moment, and she sighed.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

She hesitated, knowing he would feel that, too, but she was reluctant to bring anything work-related into their meager vacation time. She contemplated just telling him that she was thinking about the telescope –not exactly a lie.

"C'mon, Carter…spill," he said with a teasing lilt.

She opened her mouth, but the jumble of thoughts in her head made a coherent reply elusive, and with a sigh she pressed her lips together, took a deep breath and tried again.

"I was thinking about Eli."

She felt him still against her. This was not the conversation he was expecting, and she knew it was not one he relished. That was the problem with asking what she was thinking: dammit! He had asked…he shouldn't ask if he really didn't want to know what was lurking in her head. She felt the tension radiating off of him, had there been any doubt that he knew what Eli she was talking about, his suddenly tight posture betrayed him.

"You asked," she said quietly, her jaw set and her eyes locked on the computer screen in front of her.

It wasn't that he was angry at her, she knew. This subject was rife with problems for him: demons of his own that he battled. They weren't coming home. On some deep level, he held himself responsible for the failure; they were ultimately under his command, and they were left behind.

She felt him shift uncomfortably, his chin still resting on her shoulder. He exhaled between pursed lips, the rush of air stirring a tendril of hair that had escaped its corral.

"Go on."

The two words had an immediate effect: she felt the tension drain slowly out of her shoulders and she slid deeper into the circle of his arms. His rigid muscles mirrored hers and relaxed marginally. A bubble of permissiveness cocooned them –it was fragile, but it was there.

"I'm just glad that we were able to fix the stasis pod in time."

"It was close."

"If it wasn't for McKay…"

"Oh –McKay's an arrogant ass!" he growled, "It wasn't McKay that pulled all-nighters in that conference room with Eli Wallace. McKay just found the right reference in the Ancient library on Atlantis."

She smiled and ducked her chin fractionally, "I don't think I'll ever get used to those communication stones. Looking at that captain…Bennett, wasn't it? Looking at him and knowing it was Eli behind those eyes…it was weird."

"Oh, it's weird when you're the one using them, too," he replied.

She knew he was remembering his own experiences with the Ancient communication devices; he had groused that they might be good for interstellar communication, but it was damn unsettling.

"He was scared…so was I," she admitted softly.

"You were good for him: brilliant, in fact. I knew you could do it."

There was no arrogance, no bragging in his tone –just a simple statement, a quiet certainty in her abilities to pull the proverbial rabbit out of her…hat. His unshakeable confidence in her was simultaneously warming and frightening.

Saying goodbye to Eli had been difficult; there was no guarantee that the Destiny crew would leave stasis in her lifetime, or that they would survive the journey. As she and Rodney had walked down the hall later, he had prattled on about how he wished he could have been there, but as she paused at Jack's office door and stared at the man behind the desk, silver head bent over documents detailing the latest crisis, she felt nothing but gratitude that she wasn't there.

No…she was glad to be _here_.

She let out an indeterminate huff and disentangled herself from his arms to lean forward and try the computer command again. Almost immediately the screen filled with a sprinkling of white dots. She strangled the cheer that surged up her throat and typed in a command to rotate the telescope remotely, swinging it to face south -bringing into focus a familiar constellation. Jack scooted his chair closer for a better view.

The familiar outline of a celestial hunter filled the monitor and Sam felt her heart pick up the pace: there was something about the heavenly giant, poised to strike with deadly aim, which she found enthralling. She identified the bright blue and white stars, tracing her finger across the screen as she muttered their names: Rigel, Bellatrix, Mintaka, Alnilam, Alnitak, Saiph…she focused in on the constellation's shoulder, and a blood red spot that bloomed there.

"Yes!" she hissed.

She felt him smile into her shoulder at her excited outburst.

"This what you wanted to show me, Carter?"

"Betelgeuse,"

"The armpit of the hunter."

"What?"

"That's what it means…Betelgeuse."

She glared at him, certain he was teasing her.

He spread his hands, the picture of innocence, "I'm not kidding –look," and he reached around her to trace the constellation on her screen with the tip of his finger, "Rigel, the left foot. Saiph, the right foot. Mintaka, Alnilam, and Alnitak, the belt. Bellatrix, the left shoulder. And this right here," he rubbed the somber red spot on the monitor for emphasis, "is Betelgeuse…the right shoulder –but the name literally means 'the armpit of the hunter'."

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"In Arabic…it really means…oh c'mon Sam, don't give me that look!"

The pursed set of her lips unwound fractionally as a smile tugged at the corners. She bumped him with her shoulder before settling back against him.

This felt good. Humor had been thin to non-existent lately.

He settled her in closer and once more laid his chin on her shoulder; they stared at the screen in companionable silence. This was one of her favorite things about them, together –they didn't feel the need to fill the silence with aimless chatter. The fire crackled softly, the steady sound broken only by the occasional louder pop of resin succumbing to the heat.

"Did you know it beats?" he murmured quietly.

"Beats?"

"Yeah…like a heart –expanding and contracting: one beat every six years."

She nodded, "It's the stellar mass loss: Betelgeuse is a red giant, and it's common for red giants to lose gravitational hold on their upper layers and shed them into space…"

"Carter?" he interrupted.

"Mmm?"

"Don't suck the fun out of it."

His rebuke lacked any real sting, and she chuckled a little; they drifted to silence again.

"It's also called the Valentine star," she said softly.

"Is it now?"

"Mm-hmm, because it's at its highest point above the horizon every Valentine's night around…" she checked her watch, "now."

His hands slid around her middle again, and he buried his face in her neck. She watched their reflection in the window pane: firelight played in his silver hair, and highlighted the contrast between her dark, upswept locks and fair skin. The change of hair color had been a choice born of many weeks of consideration –she rarely did anything impetuously; she had worried that it would throw him…that it would change her appearance enough to make her not look like…well…_her_.

He raised his head, his eyes catching hers in the reflection, and he slowly swiveled her a quarter turn around so that he could look her in the eye. Reaching up, he teased the hair tie out carefully, letting her hair fall and drape across her shoulders. He smiled and rolled a lock of brown hair between his thumb and forefinger, studying it.

"You still like it?"

"Oh, ya," he replied impishly.

He raised his eyes to hers and she took the quiet moment to study his face; the same intense brown eyes shining out from beneath the same heavy brow, the same unruly silver hair glinting almost regally in the firelight. Washington had seemed to age him prematurely: there were crinkles and lines around his eyes and across his forehead that hadn't been there 6 years ago. She cupped his face and traced the crow's feet tenderly. His gaze softened at her touch and he leaned in to brush her lips lightly. She sighed, feeling deeply and profoundly content.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Sam."

~End~


End file.
